


Reuniting

by xfandomwritingsx



Series: To Kirkwall [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Mage Hawke (Dragon Age), Past Anders/Female Hawke (Dragon Age), a little bit of self loathing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2019-10-17 05:57:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17554700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xfandomwritingsx/pseuds/xfandomwritingsx
Summary: When Hawke comes to Skyhold, Varric notices there’s something just a little bit different in his relationship with her. Not that he's complaining.





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Super creative title, isn’t it? This is only part one of a most likely 2-3 part story. Also my first attempt at a Dragon Age fic and the first time in a long time that I’ve written something not in second person POV. 
> 
> Rating might be upped in parts to follow. I'm not 100% certain where this is going yet so we'll find out!

Varric snuck her into Skyhold late at night, when he knew Cassandra was asleep and the men on guard knew him well enough to keep quiet for a while. He waited at the gate, Bianca resting at his leg as he leaned back against the stone wall. He was oddly fidgety; his gloved fingers running over themselves, a foot tapping on the ground, his eyes constantly flitting across the bridge.

He was _nervous_. It had been, what? Over two damn years since he’d seen Hawke. He had vowed to himself when they parted ways on the Kirkwall docks that he’d do everything he possibly could to keep her out of whatever came next. He had watched the burning city begin to settle into a smolder behind them and silently promised to spin every tale he could to keep her safe.

And yet here he was, smashing that promise to pieces. He had asked her to Skyhold and she had agreed so easily, without question. It practically broke his heart. All he had wanted for her was a quiet life, but whatever Gods were out there had made him throw her back into the thick of it.

He caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He felt himself tense, too used to preparing for a fight. It only took a second to recognize her though. He’d know that walk anywhere. That woman had flare in everything she did, walking being no exception. A slight smile tugged at his lips watching her approach. Maker, did he miss her.

“Hawke!” he called out, bringing himself away from the wall and raising his arms towards her in his typical, friendly greeting. She picked up her pace, approaching him quickly. He opened his mouth to say something more as she came closer, but as she walked into the firelight of the torches, he saw an angry scowl on her face. Before he could ask what was wrong, her hands were on his shoulders and he was shoved back against the stone wall again, Hawke towering over him. “Shit, this is different,” he joked with her, trying to determine if that furrow in her brow was something to truly worry about. “I mean this is the kind of greeting you expect from a pissed off client or a turned on lover, maybe both.” Her fingers squeezed his shoulders, preventing him from shrugging.

“Shut up, Varric,” she cut him off sharply. “What is wrong with you?” He noticed a guard look their way and he made a subtle gesture with his hand to warn them away.

“Well now, that depends on who you ask.” He was confident she was angry, but not pissed off enough to actually cause any harm.

“I didn’t hear from you for weeks!” Ah, so _that’s_ what this was about. He felt his signature smirk fall from his face and a little bit more guilt sank in. “Haven was attacked and buried and I didn’t hear from you for _weeks_!” She gave him a small shake in her anger. “Do you have any idea how worried I was?” Her voice softened by only a hair, but it was enough to make him feel even worse.

“Listen Hawke,” he started. For only the second or third time in Varric’s life, he couldn’t find the right words. What was he supposed to say? That there had been too much happening? He couldn’t find a messenger? He had started at least half a dozen letters, but couldn’t finish them? That he seriously considered letting her think he had died with the small hope he couldn’t screw up her life anymore? Thankfully, she saved him from having to fumble for a half-reasonable excuse.

“Come here, you bastard.” She gave a hard tug on his shoulders and pulled him into a tight hug. Her arms wrapped around his neck and he allowed his to slip around her waist. He considered for a moment making a joke of their height difference and the way his face fell nearly between her breasts, but it wasn’t the time and quite frankly, she felt too damn good for him to ruin it.

They stayed in the embrace longer than either of them intended to. As fun as the encrypted, snarky banter was in their letters, it wasn’t nearly the same as having the other there in person and it had been a long time since either of them had been comforted by the touch of a friend. When they finally pulled away, Varric caught a glimmer of tears in Hawke’s eyes before she quickly wiped them away and he had to stop himself from getting emotional as well.

“Come on,” he nudged her. “Let’s get you inside before someone tells the Seeker and she tries to hang me from the gate.” It earned a chuckle from her and the sound sparked something deep in his gut. A warmth spread over him and he couldn’t keep the smile off his face. He really had missed her.

He led her the back way to his room, avoiding any areas that risked having more than a couple people. He’d deal with introductions and the awe of the legendary Champion after tomorrow when they met with the Inquisitor. Until then, he wanted to keep her hidden away as much as he could.

“You know, I’ve quite missed a dwarf bed!” she told him as she walked in. Varric closed the door behind them and chuckled. “It’s not such a long way down when I roll off in the middle of the night.” She propped her staff against the wall by her side of the bed. He didn’t even realize she _had_ a side until just then.

“You get hit on the head one too many times recently?” He watched her crouch down and plop onto the bed to undo her boots. “Because I don’t recall you ever falling off the bed.”

Back in Kirkwall, it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for her to end up sleeping in his bed. Sometimes it was one too many drinks. Sometimes it was late and she was just tired. Other times, especially after Leandra died and Anders started growing distant, it was out of loneliness. Varric never had any problem setting up a makeshift cot on the floor, but towards the end of their time in Kirkwall, Hawke started insisting there was no reason not to share the bed, joking that her long legs didn’t require her to take up both sides.

“Well, there _are_ a lot of people constantly trying to hit me in the head, you know.” The smile on her face didn’t quite seem genuine.

As he approached the bed, ready to settle down himself, he watched her carefully. She looked down, unlacing her second boot before kicking it to the wall. Instead of going to his side, he found himself walking up to her, standing beside her. She looked solemnly down at her hands for a moment and he simply waited.

“Honestly, I guess I’m just used to sleeping on the ground anymore.” She said it softly, quietly and his heart ached for her. She used to live in a Hightown mansion, but now she’d gotten so used to sleeping in the dirt, she found comfort in a dwarf bed resting on the floor?

“Well, maybe once this whole mess is over, we can take you back to Kirkwall and get you one of those fancy beds you liked that practically touched the ceiling.” She flashed him a smile and he felt a little better.

“It wasn’t that high,” she protested.

“I saw your bed in Hightown. I wouldn’t have been able to climb onto that thing if you gave me three stepstools and a ladder!” His exaggeration made her roll her eyes and laugh, a sight that gave him a warm sense of nostalgia.

“Well it’s a good thing you never tried to crawl into my bed then, isn’t it?” she jested back.

“It would have been a little crowded with you, me, Blondie, _and_ a pissed off spirit, don’t you think?” He worried for a moment that he took it too far by bringing up Anders. It had been a couple years, but still. They had ended on pretty bad terms. She put his fears to rest though, raising a teasing eyebrow at him.

“Now, don’t tell me you’re leaving Bianca out of that little get together.”  He barked out a laugh, gave half a shrug, then slung the crossbow off of his back to prop it up next to Hawke’s staff.

“She’s not concerned,” he assured. “She knows I don’t go for humans.” He watched as just for a moment, something in her eyes fell.

“I suppose you don’t, do you?” she mused. He didn’t have time to question what it had been for it was gone just as quick as it appeared. “My last human didn’t work out, so maybe you have the right idea.” She shuffled back on the bed a little bit, starting to remove the metal pieces of her signature Champion armor. “I hear you’ve got a Qunari around here somewhere. Maybe I’ll give him a try before I go. I hear they’re fun.”

“The Iron Bull?” Varric felt a swirl of something he didn’t like in his stomach, something negative. A protectiveness, maybe. “I’ve heard stories both from him and about him. Trust me, you don’t want to go knocking on that door.” He finally moved over across the room to his side of the bed and kicked off his shoes. He chose to leave out the detail that he hadn’t heard any necessarily _negative_ things about Bull. Dissuading her from anything with him just seemed like the better path.

“Well fine,” she sighed a little theatrically and he felt a little relieved she hadn’t been serious about it.

Within a few minutes, they were both down to clothes comfortable enough to sleep in and crawling underneath the rough fabric of Varric’s sheets. They both drifted off quickly and easily, Varric’s eyes closing almost as soon as he lay down.

Just before sleep overtook him, he felt Hawke’s hand reach out underneath the blanket and grab for him. She had probably meant to go for his hand, but instead she ended up at his hip. In the fog of sleep, she didn’t seem to care and just squeezed lightly.

“I missed you, Varric,” she mumbled. He took her hand in his and squeezed it back.

“Missed you too, Hawke,” he whispered before they both fell asleep.


	2. Part Two

Hawke had followed the Inquisitor, intending to call out to her and maybe find out where Varric was hiding. She hadn’t seen him since he’d introduced the two on the battlements and honestly, Hawke was getting turned around in Skyhold. Navigating new places wasn’t her strong suit unless it was in Kirkwall. Everything was always so similar there.

She never did actually manage to call out to the Inquisitor though, and instead ended up following her a little creepily by accident. The Inquisitor entered a building and was already walking up the stairs when Hawke entered. There was a scuffling sound upstairs, furniture being violently rearranged.

“You knew where Hawke was all along!” She stopped at the sound of her name, puzzled at what in Thedas was happening up there.

“You’re damned right I did!” Varric’s voice called out angrily. He didn’t yell very often. Hawke could actually count the number of times she’d heard him get angry and yell at someone on her fingers. Curiosity got the better of her and she stood by the stairs, head cocked to aim her ear to listen more.

“You conniving little shit!” The woman spat out through gritted teeth. There was the sound of more scuffling above Hawke’s head and she thought about going up the stairs herself to intervene, but decided against it. Varric could handle himself.

“You kidnapped me! You interrogated me! What did you expect?” Ah, so the pissed off woman must have been the Seeker Hawke had heard so much about. She sounded different than Hawke expected.

“Hey! Enough.” The Inquisitor’s voice rose up, stopping the two from going at it again.

“You’re taking his side?” The Seeker said, astonished.

“I said enough!”

The voices lowered for the most part, making it harder for Hawke to hear what they were saying. Still, she waited. She had been looking for Varric after all and she had found him. Hawke started to wonder how bad the interrogation actually was. In his letters, he went between brushing it off flippantly and over exaggerating, saying how he was held down and tortured and forced to kiss an ogre. She knew the truth lay somewhere in between his stories, but where exactly? Had the Seeker harmed him?

The thought enraged her. That woman better not have put a finger on him. If she had, Hawke would personally make sure she got it right back before she left.

“I was protecting my friend!” Varric’s voice rose again and Hawke felt a warmth in her stomach. Affection? Guilt? She had never asked him to hide her away, never expected him to. And yet he did. He was the one friend she could always count on no matter what. (Except that one time in the fade. But that didn’t count. The fade never counted.) He was more than just a friend. “You know what I think?” She could see his feet at the very top of the stairs, hear his voice a little clearer. “If Hawke had been at the temple, she’d be dead too.” He paused for just a beat. “You people have done enough to her.” The amount of severity, pain, _fear_ in his voice made her ache. She was more than just a friend to him too.

She saw him start to descend the stairs and waited for him. He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head as he came down, the other hand on the wooden railing. Only when he got to the bottom did he see her there and stop, surprised at her presence.

She thought about saying something, about offering something more than the soft, half smile on her lips, but nothing would come out. Nothing needed to though. They stood there looking at each other, saying a lot in their silence.

It reminded her of their last night in Kirkwall, standing on the dock, waiting for her to leave. They had stood next to each other, arms brushing against each other’s but not saying a thing. They were never really good at the serious stuff and always leaned towards leaving words unsaid. They both knew what the other was thinking, feeling, what they were _meaning_ to say. There was absolutely no need to speak words.

It was no different standing at the bottom of those stairs with the silent _thank you_ ’s and _I love you_ ’s and _you didn’t have to_ ’s filling the space between them. She wanted to reach out to him, maybe to hug him again, maybe to just take his hand. Instead, she stayed where she was and let the moment extend.

“Want to get a drink?” Varric asked, finally breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” she replied, that half smile breaking out into a full one. “A drink sounds good.”

They spent the first part of the evening catching up and reminiscing on old times over drinks and the tavern food. It all felt comfortable and familiar and yet… there was something different neither of them could quite put their finger on.

Varric thought he was being ridiculous, but after the third time Hawke grabbed his arm while they laughed, after the third time her hand lingered and her thumb ran over his muscle before letting go, he knew he wasn’t imagining it. He couldn’t recall a time she ever did that to him. It’s not like they never touched, but he wouldn’t have ever described their relationship as physically affectionate either. It was more along the lines of claps on the back and holding each other up after battle.

Hawke wasn’t oblivious to it either. She caught herself reaching out to him. It was near impossible not to notice the way her stomach fluttered or her skin buzzed when she did it and she saw his eyes sink a shade darker. She would have taken that look as an unsure and unwelcome look, if he didn’t keep pressing his leg against hers while they sat at the bar. She wasn’t sure if he even realized he did it. It was a subtle thing, happened when he turned to her or when he simply readjusted and widened his legs on the stool. Accidental in nature, but purposeful in the linger.

After the sun had dipped behind the mountains, the tavern started filling up. Varric found himself trying to keep Hawke and himself at the corner end of the bar for as long as he could. Eventually though, the members of the team gathering noticed them there and a small feeling of disappointment floated through him when they gathered around, all wanting to meet his friend.

He made the introductions to Dorian, Sera, and Blackwall easy enough, but found himself paying a little more attention when they got to Bull, ready to warn Hawke away again if she suggested any interest again. There was none however. She was more interested in Dorian’s staff (which sounded much dirtier than it was.)

The six gathered around a table and ordered a round of drinks. It didn’t surprise Varric that she fit right in. Hawke was personable and a little wild and this group of people? Crazy didn’t even begin to describe them most of the time. She blended right in with the rest of them.

It was only when Cassandra came through the door did he notice her tense up. They hadn’t been introduced yet so Hawke didn’t recognize her until she spoke.

“Where is Commander Cullen?” Cassandra asked, looking around the room. Hawke drew her shoulders back, sat up a little straighter. Varric watched her eyes harden and her hand tense around her mug.

“Where do you think?” Varric laughed, attempting to diffuse the situation before it started. Cassandra might have been a tight ass with low social skills, but she didn’t necessarily deserve Hawke whipping spells at her in the middle of the tavern.

“Notice the Inquisitor isn’t here either?” Dorian piped up, waggling his eyebrows. Cassandra rolled her eyes and made a disgusting noise, before exiting quickly.

“Prude?” Hawke speculated as the group laughed. “Or jealous?” Bull barked out a laugh at the thought.

“That woman has zero interest in Cullen. She barely talks to him as a friend let alone a lover,” he told her, still chuckling at the idea.

“And she’s one of the few people here who wouldn’t bang the Inquisitor if given the chance.” Sera’s words ended with a strange cackle of a laugh that was somewhere between infectious and annoying. Hawke decided she liked it. Most of them started nodding their heads, agreeing with the elf.

“You’re telling me you’d all sleep with her?” Hawke waved her hand across the table, baffled by this idea. The inquisitor was much more popular than she first thought.

“If she liked lady bits, I’d have no problem getting up in hers!” Sera cackled and once again, the general consensus from the table was positive.

“If I were to ever be with a woman, I do imagine it would be someone quite like her,” Dorian nodded thoughtfully.

“Or if she had a dick,” Bull teased crudely causing Dorian to scrunch his face and the rest of the table to laugh again.  “If she needed worked out, I wouldn’t go turning her away.” He took a drink and smacked his lips. Varric looked at him with a grin.

“Yes, but you’ll chase after anything that moves if they show interest.” Bull simply grinned back and shrugged. Hawke looked around the table and noticed the warden looked down into his mug, oddly quiet.

“And you, Blackwall?” she prodded. A blush rose up onto the man’s face, peeking out from under his beard.

“She’s uhh,” he stumbled. “She’s a fine woman.” The group scoffed at him.

“Fine woman,” Sera mocked. “You couldn’t keep your eyes off her arse the last time we went out to the Hinterlands!”

“Warden there’s been holding a candle for our leader for quite some time,” Varric leaned over and whispered to her. Hawke found she had to stop herself from leaning into him and immediately blamed the alcohol for the warm rush she got.

“Ah, unrequited love,” she mused. “It’s a bitch, isn’t it?” She meant is as a jest, but when their eyes met, the smiles between them faltered just slightly and the air seemed to get thick. It lasted only a moment, another bout of laughter from the table pulling them apart. He leaned away quickly.

“What about you, Varric?” Dorian asked, again waggling his eyebrows. “Would you take a spin on our dear Inquisitor?” Hawke watched him closely, feeling her stomach twist a little bit. He only chuckled and leaned back in his chair.

“Nope. This is the one time you can put me and the Seeker in the same category.” Dorian raised a single eyebrow at him, not sure if he believed him or not.

“Varric isn’t interested in us humans,” she confirmed. Was that a bite in her tone? She didn’t mean it to sound snappy.

“Why not?” Bull sounded amazed. “Humans can be fun!”  Varric simply sat back and waited for the teasing and prodding. He had no problem being at the end of their jokes for a while.

“You shouldn’t count us out just because we’re tall. That’s just rude.” Dorian scrunched his face again in an exaggerated way, feigning offense.

“Sorry, Sparkles. You still wouldn’t be my type,” Varric teased.

“That’s what they all say.” He threw a wink at Varric and Varric just shook his head, taking another drink.

“All those legs just get in the way,” he told them. “It’s a tangle of flailing limbs that don’t need to be there. And kissing a human? Talk about neck problems!” They all rolled their eyes.

“You’d just have to be creative!” Hawke encouraged, a too-wide smile on her face.

“You’re telling me the idea of a woman’s long legs draped down over your shoulders and back while your face is between them holds no appeal to you?” Dorian questioned.

Varric’s voice got a little caught in his throat so he took another drink to buy him time. He avoided looking at Hawke at all costs. He had never pictured it before, no, but now that Dorian had said it? It was hard not to have the image flash in his mind and for reasons he didn’t want to indulge, the only woman his mind would conjure as a partner was Hawke. Before he realized it, he had chugged his entire mug.

“You’re drawn to powerful people,” Bull interrupted his thoughts and saved him from having to answer Dorian. “You sure you wouldn’t like having a human straddling you? Towering over you? Pulling you up to them?” Varric decided it was a mistake to have finished his ale so quickly.

“Oooh! Oooh!” Sera chimed in. “I bet you he would! Bet he likes being tied down too.” There were snickers from everyone except Bull.

“No,” he drawled. “That’s just a bit too far for a guy like him, but I’m telling you,” he looked pointedly at Varric. “You’d like having a human woman ride you.”

“Hawke!” Sera pointed to the woman who had been oddly quiet the last few minutes. “Climb into his lap!” Both Hawke’s and Varric’s eyes widened while the others at the table clapped, even Blackwall. “Let’s see if he’s telling the truth!”

“Why me?” Hawke held up her hands in confusion.

“You’re the only female human here,” Blackwall pointed out. “And you know him best.”

“I’m telling you,” Varric protested. “I’m not interested in humans.” Something stirred in Hawke. She again blamed the alcohol for the buzzing, the heat, the courage that suddenly coursed through her. She took one more long drink and then slammed the mug down on the table.

“Alright, you know what?” She put her hands down and pushed her chair away before standing up. “I’m tired of you not liking humans. I’m taking offense on behalf of all the women of my race.” There was some hollering from the others as they looked at each other. She smirked at him, a friendly challenge painted on her face.

Varric chewed on the inside of his lip, contemplating his response. His gut told him it was a bad idea. If it had been years ago, if it had been in the comfort of The Hanged Man, if things hadn’t felt so different since she got there, maybe he wouldn’t be hearing warning bells going off in his head. He knew he should make some witty remark and get out of the whole thing, but that playful challenge in her eyes made him not want to back down.

“Alright,” he conceded, pushing aside the concern and giving in to the curiosity of where it would go. He adjusted his chair, moving it away from the table and facing her. “Just don’t get too attached,” he teased. “I don’t need another woman pining for me.”

“Bianca has nothing to worry about,” she assured, walking up to him with a little too much sway in her hips for his liking. The team watched on, their cheering noises dying down so they could watch carefully.

Varric felt his chest tighten as she approached. He kept the smirk on his face and what he hoped to be a cool composure. He tried to relax, to lean back in his chair and challenge her right back. It’s not like he’d never noticed Hawke was attractive, but she’d never looked at him like that or walked up to him like that or straddled him like she was about to. And Maker help him, it was doing things to him.

When she got close enough, she put her hands on his shoulders to steady herself and slid one of her legs along his hip, through the hole under the armrest. After planting that foot on the ground, she shifted her weight to slide her other leg over him. He kept eye contact with her as she bent her knees and sat on his lap. Why, _why_ , did she do it so slowly? And why, _why in Thedas_ , was she biting her lip when she did it?

She settled down on his legs, not nearly as heavy as he expected, and gave him a coy smile. He tilted his head, watching her intently and trying not to focus on the feeling of her on him. He didn’t want to admit that it was a feeling he could get used to. Before he could stop himself, his hands were on her thighs, palms flat against her muscled legs and sliding up to her hips. He watched her breath hitch and it only encouraged him. He gave a pull on her hips, sliding her ass on his legs and bringing her even closer. That confident look in her eyes faded for just a moment.

“You’re telling me,” Dorian started, threatening to break whatever tension was happening between Hawke and Varric. “A human couldn’t get a fire going in you like that?” Varric refused to break his gaze with the woman sitting on him.

“You have to imagine someone you’d fancy!” Sera clarified quickly, as if it was some kind of loophole he’d use.

“Oh, I am,” he answered honestly and quietly. The team heard him, but the way he said it, Hawke knew the words were just for her. Her eyes flitted down to his lips and he had damn butterflies like a young girl.

“Is it just a stretched-out dwarf?” Sera snickered.

“Now there’s an image,” Blackwall scoffed.

There was a brief exchange between the four still at the table that neither Varric nor Hawke bothered to listen to. There was a heat in her gaze and she had the boldness to roll her hips ever so slightly while the guys were distracted, testing his reaction. He tried not to show it, but he knew she felt it; the way his shoulders tensed and his jaw tightened. He desperately willed his bottom half to stay still. Not wanting to let her keep the upper hand on him, he took the chance and slid his hands around her hips and rested them on her ass. His smirk widened when she squirmed on him.

There was a loud bit of hearty laughter from beside them and Varric thought about removing his hands, but decided against it. Let them see.

“Nothing, Varric?” Hawke asked. “What if she grabbed you like this?” Her slender fingers tangled themselves in the collar of his jacket and pulled. He wasn’t sure if she pulled him to her or her to him, but the end result was the same. Her face dipped down towards his and her breasts pressed against him. “Not enticing at all?”

“What do you think, Hawke?” His voice was low, husky. He punctuated it with a small roll of his own hips, a move he nearly regretted when she pushed back and he could feel himself hardening underneath her. So far everything that happened could easily be laughed off in the morning, two friends messing around, but if she felt _that_? That would be harder to ignore tomorrow.

She hummed above him before finally looking away and leaning back, creating a small amount of distance between them. It didn’t do anything to quell the heat he was feeling, the way his skin was hot under his clothes or the way he wished they were alone.

“What’s the verdict?” She directed her question to the group. “Think Varric could like a human?”

“I think he’s no fun if he doesn’t,” Sera said.

“If that doesn’t do it for him, nothing will.” Dorian finished his drink and reached behind him for his staff, ready to call it a night.

“Doesn’t really matter in the end, does it?” Blackwall mused. “No one’s going to compete with that crossbow of his.” Hawke laughed at that and instinctively looked around to see where Bianca was. She was tucked away safely under the table, right where he’d left her.

“Well that certainly confirmed it,” Bull joined in. “Varric is not definitely not interested in humans.” Both of them looked at the Qunari, masking curious and confused looks. Bull threw them a wink and a suggestive face neither of them quite understood.

“I think now is a good time for me to retire for the evening.” Dorian stood from seat and stretched his arms into the air.

“Me too,” Blackwall agreed. “Anymore ale and I’m not sure I’ll wake up tomorrow.” Despite his words, he quickly finished the rest of his mug before pushing it away. Sera started talking again, calling them pussies for going to bed so early and blabbering on.

Varric didn’t quite hear her. His mind was too focused on the way that Hawke’s hands had loosened on his collar, one of them gently flattening high on his shoulder, her fingers grazing along his neck and one sliding down onto his chest. He worried about her being able to feel his heart pounding hard against his breastbone, but when the tips of her fingers ran through his chest hair, he was more much worried about her feeling that twitch in his cock.

“What do you think, Varric?” Hawke’s voice rang in his ears and he looked up to her. “Ready to go back to your room?” There was an innuendo in there and he wasn’t sure if she meant to add it or not. There was a sparkle in her eyes though and he realized it was the first time he’d seen it since she arrived. Where had it been all day? Everything in him went heavy and deflated.

That sparkle, that spark, the damn light in her eyes used to be there all the time, even when things got bad. It had glimmered behind the tears when her family died. He had seen it underneath the fear during the battle with the Arishok. It pained him to think it’d gone away over the last few years and he made himself another silent promise that he’d do whatever he could to make sure it came back.

“Whatever you want,” he muttered, still a little lost in his own thoughts. She shifted back, in turn pressing her ass into his hands and on a pure reaction, he squeezed. She smiled, chuckled a little bit, and patted his shoulder.

“I’m going to use the bathroom, finish that drink, and then you’re going to lead me back to your chambers because I will never find my way back there myself.” Varric threw his head back and had to laugh.

“And to think you’re the one who used to lead us around Kirkwall?” She gave him a playful shove at his teasing. All the tension dissolved as they fell back into their easy best friends relationship.

“Kirkwall was easier than here!” She defended. “It’s all open with so many twists and turns and rooms! You leave me to my own devices and I’ll probably end up in that creepy kid’s room.”

“I’m not sure who would be more confused, you or Cole.”

The flashed smiles at each other before Hawke began to remove herself from Varric’s lap. She stood up and instantly he tried not to miss the pressure of her on his legs. He shifted his hands back to her hips to help steady her as she disentangled her legs from the chair. She had to lean forward to move one leg back to the ground in front of him and when she did, her breasts were inches from his face and he involuntarily held his breath until she pulled away, steady on her own feet.

“I’ll be back,” she announced before turning to walk towards the back of the tavern. Varric had a hard time keeping his eyes off her ass.

“You may not be interested in humans in general,” Bull said lowly, pulling Varric’s eyes away from her. He practically forgot anyone else was there. “But maybe one in particular would do the trick.”

“What are you going on about?” Varric threw Bull his signature “full of shit” smile and gave a small roll of his eyes. Bull simply nodded towards Hawke.

“Bianca isn’t the only woman in your life.” He didn’t phrase is as a question that could be argued with and when Varric opened his mouth to refute, Bull leaned over and winked. “Ben-Hassrath, remember?”

Varric closed his mouth, not feeling like debating his own feelings with the Qunari. And to be honest, he wasn’t even sure what he was feeling himself. All he knew is that when Hawke reappeared, all he could picture was having her back in his lap.

“Well, shit.”


	3. Part Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So 2-3 parts turned into "I have no idea how many parts." Dear god I hope I didn't just get myself into another long story.

“I’m going to head out to Crestwood in the morning,” Hawke told him as they walked back to his room. Varric dropped his head, pushing aside the feeling of disappointment. “Make sure Stroud is doing alright out there.” He stayed quiet, making a noncommittal noise in response. “It sounds like you should only be a day or two behind me.”

“That’s if I’m going at all,” Varric corrected her and she looked at him a little confused. “The Inquisitor hasn’t told us who she wants going yet.”

“What?” She exclaimed a little too loudly in her drunken state. “But you’re the right-hand man!” He couldn’t help but chuckle at her enthusiasm.

“I’m _your_ right-hand man. I’ve been more of a behind the scenes kind of guy for the Inquisitor.” Suddenly, she threw an arm around his shoulders, causing them both to stumble on their walk and dissolve into laughs. Varric’s arm slipped around her waist and he purposefully strained his shoulder a little, making damn sure his hand and arm were _above_ her ass.

“How is that even possible?” She sounded completely baffled. “I can’t imagine you not coming with.” She sounded a little more solemn that time. Varric squeezed her hip.

“You’ve survived this long. I think you can handle another excursion without me.” They walked in silence the rest of the way back to his room. They separated to climb the stairs, neither of them trusting themselves not to fall over if they stayed intertwined. He got to the top first, going to open the door before realizing Hawke had fallen behind. He turned to look at her, seeing her stopped a few steps down, looking up at him with a stoic and yet curious expression.

“Come with me,” she said, almost breathlessly.

“What?” He laughed, unsure of what else to do. She tilted her head and walked up a couple of stairs.

“Come with me,” she repeated, a hint of excitement coming through. “If she’s not using you, if you’re just sitting here in this giant, empty space of a keep,” One more step forward and she was at eye level with him. “Come with me.”

“Hawke,” he groaned. His first instinct was to say yes. He wanted to. But he wanted to do a lot of things right then, most of which he knew were bad ideas. “I can’t,” he conceded, though his voice didn’t sound convinced. “I can’t just leave now. Not with this Corypheus shit going on. I’ve got to see this through.”

He watched her as she searched his eyes. A part of him was terrified of disappointing her, of watching that spark go out in her eyes because of him. He knew right now, in his inebriated state, that if she pushed just a little, if she asked just the right way or gave him the right look, maybe if she touched him in that desperate, needy way, he’d break. He’d turn his back on the world and follow her wherever she went.

Thankfully, she did none of that. She sighed and smiled lightly at him.

“Since when are you such a good man?” She teased and he chuckled back at her. It was strange having her level with him. He was used to looking up at her, not being able to see so many small details in her face. When her teeth grazed her bottom lip, he decided he didn’t like it. Not right now at least. When she was taller than him, there was no temptation to take her face in his hands because he literally couldn’t reach.

“Let’s get you to bed,” he said, turning back to the door. “Get you back to being your tall self. You being my height is just weird.” She didn’t say anything, but he could practically hear her smile.

Once inside, they both made quick work of their clothes, slipping into sleep pants and tunics and doing a quick rinse of their teeth in an attempt to not wake up with a stale mouth in the morning. When Varric came out of his small bathroom, Hawke was already slipping into bed. He suddenly felt hot and nervous, afraid the lingering ale in his system would make him do something he’d regret.

“I’m going to sleep in my chair tonight,” he mumbled, pointing dumbly at the unappealing wooden chair next to his desk. Hawke furrowed her brow.

“What?” She couldn’t have heard him right, could she? “Why?” There was a slight fear gripping at her chest. Had she scared him? Did she screw up at the tavern?

“I just thought…” He stuttered a little bit for a valid answer. It wasn’t like he could just tell her all he wanted to do was hold onto her and that he wasn’t confident anymore that it was only in a platonic way.

“Varric, I don’t need the whole bed,” she filled in. “I won’t bite,” she tried to make light. “I mean… I might kick you accidently, but not bite.” He wanted to joke back with her, to flirt with her even, to tease _what if I asked nicely?_ He stopped himself on all accounts though. He watched her smile falter and it about killed him. One way or another, that woman was going to be the death of him.

“Alright, fine,” he gave in, putting his hands up and lacing his voice with his usual sarcasm. “But I don’t want to hear you complain about me hogging the bed.”

“Here I thought I’d be the bed hog with all my legs!” She smiled and threw back the covers on his side of the bed, inviting him to sit down. “It’s a wonder how you didn’t wake tangled up in them this morning!” Cue more mental images he did not need.

He shook them from his mind and pulled himself into bed. They both settled themselves down, each turning until they found a comfortable position. He was thankful, at least for the moment, that she had chosen to rest on her side facing away from him. He rested easily on his back, content to let the haze of sleep overcome him, but then he heard her voice.

“Varric?” He hummed to let her know he was still awake. “What happens if you don’t come to Crestwood?” He didn’t open his eyes, but his brow did scrunch. “What happens if we don’t see each other again?”

_Oh. Shit._

Varric felt heavy again. And not in a good way. He opened his eyes, stared at the ceiling, and must have been quiet for too long because Hawke carefully rolled over to face him. He tried not to look at her, afraid of what he was going to see. When she reached out and put a hand on his chest, he didn’t have much of a choice. He turned his head and saw the fear of loss on her face.

“A lot could happen,” she whispered. “The world could end.” Her fingers lightly grabbed onto his shirt, like she needed to hold onto him. She glanced down, looking away from his eyes. “I can’t lose another person I love.” Her words, barely audible, made his chest constrict.

“I’m not exactly fond of the idea either,” he admitted. It was the closest they had ever been to actually saying they loved each other, probably would be the closest they ever got. “Tell you what?” He shifted his body, turned onto his side and let her hand slide over him, resting on his hip and back. “When all this is done, you and me, we’ll go back to Kirkwall. No more of this running around and saving the world shit. We’ll go back to Darktown thugs and Bone Pit dragons.”

“We’ll go home,” she whispered back. It sounded like a good plan and he quickly found himself realizing how badly he wanted that, how badly he wanted to go back and just be with her. She was his best friend in all of Thedas, his family, his fucking everything. And that was the only reason that he stopped her when she leaned towards him.

“Varric,” she whined at his hand on shoulder, preventing her from coming any closer.

“You’re drunk, Hawke,” he chastised. He didn’t want to fuck this up. He couldn’t. There was more than one way to lose her in this world.

“And lonely.” She was looking at his mouth. “Are you telling me you’re not?” Her palm was splayed open on his back, but she wasn’t pulling him. 

“Loneliness is not a good reason to screw your friends.” He wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince more. The air was thick and she was close enough he could rest his forehead on hers if he just leaned in slightly. He felt light and airy, but so very dense and heavy at the same time. Her next words were husky, laced with a seduction that threatened to ruin him.

“I could list some other reasons.” Her fingers danced on his spine and his hand on her shoulder drifted upwards on its own, reaching up and cupping the side of her neck, his fingertips brushing the hair at the base.

His body was reacting to her, to the _possibility_ of her, in a way his mind told it not to. He could feel electricity, tingles, butterflies on his skin. An aching in the pit of his stomach craved for him to just shut up and let her do whatever she wanted to him. Her voice, sultrier than he’d ever heard it before, caused his cock to twitch in his trousers and he had to swallow a groan.

“No,” he breathed out sharply, still unsure if it was for her benefit or his. She sighed, frustrated and yet somehow understanding.

“Fine,” she gave up without any bite. She withdrew her arm and he resisted the urge to chase her. “Should have let you have a few more ales,” she joked as she lowered onto her back and he took his own hand off of her. He chuckled.

“Was that your plan?” He was glad there wasn’t an overhanging awkwardness. A little bit of a hole, maybe, a disappointment, but no awkwardness. No sour taste. “Drug me to get me into bed?” She coughed out a laugh as he too fell onto his back.

“Like I had a plan at all?” she scoffed. “I couldn’t have planned sitting in your lap if I had a month and all three of the Inquisitor’s advisors helping me!” He chuckled with her, mind floating back to it, easily recalling the feeling of her legs around him.

“Yeah, that was something.” It was said absentmindedly, almost accidentally. He had intended to poke fun at her for never having a plan for anything, but his mind had started to remove her clothes in his mental picture and he got a little sidetracked.

“Yes, it was,” she agreed, the same dreamy, half-there tone in her voice. There was a pause where they lay in dark and Varric thought maybe they’d finally drift to sleep. “Hey Varric?” She successfully got ahold of his hand when she reached for it this time. “Don’t die.” It was a command and a plea all in one in that desperate voice he hated hearing. All he could do was squeeze her hand and not let go.

“Same goes for you.”


	4. Part Four

Varric woke up alone. His bed felt strangely empty even though having only his body occupying it was its normal state. Though that may be because at some point, he’d rolled over and was splayed almost horizontally across the bed. The sun filtered in through his window and when he sat up, it was clear Hawke was gone. All of her clothes and armor had been removed from the floor and her staff wasn’t resting on the wall anymore.

He sat up and groaned, a deep dread running through him. Had she woken up bitter? Embarrassed? Had he driven her away? Maybe it was for the best. Maybe a clean break and avoiding a “morning after” was the better route. Was it technically a morning after if you  _didn’t_ have sex? He tried not to think too much about it, running his hands over his face to help wake himself up.

His bedroom door opened suddenly and he was already halfway across the bed, lunging for Bianca before he realized who was intruding.

“Easy there,” Hawke laughed at him. “I’ve made it this long without having her pointed at my face and I’d like to keep it that way if I could.” He placed her back against the wall and dropped his head down.

“You lose the ability to knock?” he teased, willing his heart and adrenaline to come back down to normal levels.

“I thought you were still sleeping,” she defended, closing the door behind her and moving over to his desk.

“And I thought you left already.” The admission was quiet as he reached over to the small table next to the bed for his hair band.

“Without saying goodbye?” She added an exaggeration to her already surprised voice. “Just because you rejected my drunken advances?” She scoffed and ran her fingers over some of the parchment on his desk, pretending to read it. “You’ll have to try harder than that to get rid of me.”

“Ah of course,” he spoke without thinking. “I’d probably have to blow up another chantry.” The moment the words left his lips, he regretted them. She stiffened and froze all motion of her hands. His throat about fell into his stomach. “Shit, Hawke. I’m sorry.” He wasn’t sure if he should go to her or stay where he was and he went with the latter. “I’ve got no filter and only half a brain when I first wake up.”

“It’s alright,” she lied. They both knew it had stung, but they both knew he hadn’t meant it like. “I’d like to think this time I’d figure it out before something like that happened, maybe listen to my trusty dwarf friend and not get involved with a possessed mage to begin with.” She cracked a smile that was so clearly fake, but he returned it for her benefit.

That relationship was fucked from the first moment they had put eyes on each other. Attraction as instant as it was doomed. Another thing in her life Varric could blame himself for. He was really bad at this shit, wasn’t he?

“Not like I should be one to judge,” he threw out in an attempt to take the bad tension out of the air. “Star-crossed and temporary lovers with a married woman isn’t exactly the most brilliant relationship plan.” He hadn’t told her much about the woman Bianca, but enough that she knew who he was referring to. “And when a beautiful, available woman propositions me, I tell her no!” Her smile widened at his compliment. “Who’s the real fool here?” Her smile turned wicked and her stance changed, melted into something confident and slinky.

“There’s still time to remedy that,” she challenged, facing him and placing her hands behind her to hop her ass onto his desk, careful not to knock over any ink. “If you want.”

_Well, fuck._

He was not nearly awake enough to process that. She needed to get off his desk. He needed to get out of this room. He needed to do something before the rest of his body noticed the way her knees were starting to slowly part. She had to just be toying with him, right? Playful flirting between friends and nothing more. She couldn’t be serious.

“Can’t a guy get a little breakfast first?” It sounded weaker than he had meant it to. Her smile didn’t falter, but she did hop off of his desk, thank the Maker.

“I was able to stumble my way to the kitchens and get them working on your favorite,” she told him proudly. Whether she was proud of her ability to navigate Skyhold or remembering his breakfast preference, he wasn’t sure.  She pointed a finger at him and added, “But I’m not a courier so you’ll have to go get it yourself.”

“Alright, alright.” He shuffled himself off the bed and onto his feet. “Let me get dressed and I’ll get my happy ass down there.”

“Meet me on the battlements after?” She requested. “Give you a proper goodbye and I want to talk to you about something.” Her tone didn’t imply it was serious, but the way she looked at her feet spoke volumes. Nervous. Fearful. Was she really that afraid they’d never see each other after today?

“See you in a bit,” he assured her before gathering his clothes and going to change.

~~~

Hawke waited on the battlements for him, leaning her elbows on the stone and looking out over Skyhold. It was a quiet place, peaceful amidst the world falling to shit. She wasn’t sure she liked it. She’d gotten so used to places like Kirkwall or being on the road. The peace and quiet just felt almost fake. She wondered how Varric could stand it, but he was always good at finding and using the dark underbelly of wherever he was and Hawke had no doubt that there was one hidden here somewhere.

She didn’t hear him come up behind her which gave him a moment to just look at her. Standing in the sunlight, he stopped to take her in because she looked like an image right out of one of his books. No wonder he used her as inspiration so often. (He was ignoring that his eyes kept falling to her ass now.)

“Serah Hawke,” he greeted with a hint of sarcasm.

“Serah Tethras,” she returned, turning her head to look at him. She felt the air be pulled from her lungs. What the _Maker_ was he wearing? He had donned a sleeveless shirt with a metal breastplate pulled over it. The outfit was completed by an array of other accessories; thick leather gloves, a wide scarf, some kind of pants most likely. She didn’t really know. Her eyes were too focused on _sleeveless_.

“You okay there, Hawke?” He asked, not oblivious to the way her jaw dropped open or her eyes heated up. He’d be lying if watching her stare like that didn’t give him at least a little bit of an ego boost.

“I won’t say I don’t miss the chest hair,” she started, tilting her head just slightly. “But I’m liking the view.” There was no reason to lie since she had very clearly been ogling him. He chuckled and stepped up next to her, putting his hands on the ledge and leaning into them. “That’s certainly new.”

“Inquisition decided new gear was in order.” He readjusted one of his gloves and she watched the way his muscles moved. “I oblige them once in a while.”

“Well if they’re trying to keep all the ladies under control by covering your chest, they’re going about it the wrong way.” Not even thinking about it, she brought her right hand across her chest, still leaning on her left forearm, and ran her fingers over the exposed skin of his arm, grabbing him just above his elbow. “This is just as bad.”

She’d seen his arms before. She’d even seen him shirtless on the odd occasion, but it wasn’t the same. He’d changed in subtle ways over the years. He’d added some muscle, toned up a bit. She could feel his veins pulsing and a hardness under the smooth, slightly tanned skin. For the first time, she thought he might actually be able to lift her up if he wanted. And damn it if that wasn’t attractive.

Varric let her run her fingers over him, trying to tame the rising heat in his belly that followed her touch. Her thumb started rubbing back and forth on his bicep, much like she had last night in the tavern and he had half a mind to let her explore any part of him she pleased. He looked up at her and watched as her cheeks flushed a light pink before hastily retracting her hand and instead, running it through her dark hair.

“I still prefer my original gear,” he commented, allowing them to move on from the brief moment. “But I’ll admit it’s nice not having to worry about being stabbed in the chest as much.” She let out a short laugh.

“Merrill actually asked me once if your chest hair was in fact armored.”

“Oh, Daisy,” he sighed, smiling at the thought. “I do miss her.”

“I miss all of them,” Hawke said softly. “Hopefully we make it back to Kirkwall and get to see some of them again.” Her voice threatened to dip down into that sad, solemn tone again and Varric stopped himself from reaching out to her.

“I’m sure they’ll all stumble their way back eventually.” He paused, considering if they actually wanted _all_ of them to return. “Well, at least the good ones,” he amended. She didn’t say anything so he quickly moved on. “You leaving soon?”

“Yes,” she confirmed. “I want to get a good start before having to camp for the night.” She looked out over the ledge and over Skyhold. He recognized the look on her face as one of thought. She was trying to piece together what she wanted to say next so he stayed quiet and waited. “Do you remember the night after my mother died?” Well that wasn’t what he expected.

“The one at your place or the one in The Hanged Man?” He had a feeling he knew which one she meant, but seeing as how they had just been discussing old friends, the night Isabela tried to bartend to cheer her up was a valid possibility.

“The first night,” she verified. “You came to me with a bottle of your finest and a story about how she once mistook you for a Lowtown thug when we first moved in.” He smiled at the memory.

“I never will forget that horrified scream when she opened the door. Thought I was robbing her.” He watched as Hawke smiled fondly, but didn’t look at him.

“Did I ever tell you that I had turned Anders away only minutes before you arrived?” She could see the surprised look on his face even from the corner of her eye. “He had come to comfort me, but I told him I wanted to be alone and sent him away.” He looked down, feeling guilty for intruding on her when she hadn’t wanted anyone. “Then you showed up and suddenly I didn’t want to be alone anymore.” His guilt melted to a sense of pride and he had to stop a small smile from breaking out on his face. “I think that’s when I should have realized it.” She spoke a little softly and yet sounded very sure of her words.

“Realized what, Hawke?” He was confused and nervous, his hands itching to fidget while his stomach twisted inside of him. She sighed and turned her head to look down at him.

“You’re my best friend, have been for years. You’re the one person I can count on and the one person I’m pretty sure I would die without. Losing you would break me,” she admitted. There was a pause and Varric opened his mouth to fill the silence, but he had nothing. What was he supposed to say to that? “But you’re not just my friend,” she added hesitantly. “Varric, you…” She sighed and looked up towards the sky, frustrated by her own lack of words and fading courage.

“Hawke,” he coaxed gently before waiting for her to continue. He stopped himself from slipping his hand over hers, afraid he’d scare her away instead of give her confidence.

“I smile when I get your letters. I feel a rush of excitement every time I see your disguised handwriting or your code names on the packaging.” He couldn’t say he didn’t understand what she was talking about. He felt the same thing when she wrote him, though he never really thought about it before. “I’ve found myself lying awake at night thinking about you, longing to see you.” Her eyes met his and he swore he couldn’t feel his damn feet anymore. “And now that I’m with you? All I can think about is touching you.” And just like that, it wasn’t just his feet he couldn’t feel anymore. In fact, the only thing he _could_ feel was the heat in his gut and the buzz on his skin.

“Hawke,” he breathed out, surprised he was able to even speak at all. “If you’re saying what I think you’re saying-”

“I am,” she cut him off, letting out an airy laugh like she didn’t know what else to do. “Maker help me, I am. My drunken propositions aren’t _just_ drunken propositions,” she joked. Neither of them were particularly good at the serious conversations and he knew she was trying as hard as she could to keep the conversation lighthearted. “I’m not expecting you to reciprocate,” she added hastily. “It’s just that after Haven… I don’t want something to happen to one of us and you not know how much you mean to me.”

There was a strange mix of anxiety and excitement coursing through him. He had no idea when he actually started to want Hawke - was it when she sat in his lap? Strutted across that bridge two nights ago? Before that? Probably. - but here she was practically on a silver platter and all he could think of was how much of a bad idea it was. He leaned on harder on his hands, looked down at his feet.

“Hawke, I can’t.” He could feel her disappointment. The energy in her, the slight hopefulness, faded out and he refused to look at her. Seeing it might actually make him hurl himself off the edge of the battlements. “Shit. I can’t _fuck up_ even more in your life,” he tried to explain. “And I would fuck this up. One way or another I’d hurt you and I _can’t_ do that.” He gritted his teeth as an anger at himself started to boil. “Everything bad that’s happened to you can be traced back to me and those damn Deep Roads. Anders, Carver, the lyrium idol. I at least should have been able to stop what happened to your mother but I didn’t.”

“Varric.” His name falling sharply off her tongue and her hand clapping on his shoulder stopped him from continuing. “You didn’t cause any of that.”

“If I hadn’t of suggested a partnership for that expedition-”

“It all would have happened anyways,” she argued. “You think my stubborn ass wasn’t going to find a way onto that expedition one way or another?” A smile tempted his lips. She _was_ a stubborn woman. “And you really think over the years that me, the mage who sucks at healing magic and is known for running headfirst into fights, never would have met the underground healer apostate without your prompting?” Her grip on his shoulder loosened, fingers brushing across the exposed skin. He forced himself to keep looking down. “And not a single person is to blame for Mother except that deranged lunatic. _You_ even told me that.” There was a heavy pause and he felt his tension leaving him and he let himself lean into her touch. “All you’ve done is give me a friend and a partner to rely on. And let’s be honest,” she brought back her light and airy voice. “It’s a true coin flip on if you’d fuck it up first or if I would.” Neither of them could help but chuckle. He sighed, giving up on his anger and self-blame for the moment.

“Even so,” he started, finally looking up from his feet, but still choosing to look out at Skyhold instead of at her. “I’m stuck here saving the world and you’re still traveling. This is the first time we’ve seen each other in years. I’ve done the star-crossed lovers thing. It… doesn’t work.” It hurt him more than he expected to say it and he honestly didn’t know if it was admitting his relationship with Bianca was a mess that did it or if it was that he knew it would never work with Hawke that cut him sharply.

“What if we weren’t?” she asked. Varric looked up at her finally, trying to understand what she meant. “What if we both stayed in the same place for a while?” He furrowed his brow as he took one of his hands off the stone so he could face her. In turn, her hand fell from his shoulder, fingers tracing down his arm. “Were you serious last night? About going back to Kirkwall?” His eyes involuntarily widened just slightly when it dawned on him what she was implying.

“Yeah,” he told her. “Yeah I was.” When her fingers came down to his wrist, he lifted his hand to make it easier for her to reach and interlaced their fingers. He wished he’d left the gloves in his room. He wanted to feel the pads of his fingers brush over her knuckles, to feel if she felt as hot as he did.

“Then… I’ll see you in Kirkwall?” she offered the words as a proposal, both a question and a promise, if he wanted it. He swallowed any other nagging doubts in his mind.

“I’ll see you in Kirkwall,” he agreed, squeezing her hand. A soft smile broke out on her face and that sparkle he loved so much came back to her eyes.

There was a pause, a moment that elongated as they looked at each other. Her eyes drifted to his mouth and he saw that temptation she had to lean down to him. He reached to stop her, free hand coming to her waist in a very counterproductive way.

“Hawke, don’t,” he warned, even though his fingers curled around her hip, urging her forward. He wanted to close the space between them, to kiss her and let his arms wrap around her. He’d stand on the damn battlements if it made it easier. His body ached to press against her, but he resisted. “If you do, I’m not going to let you go.” It was probably the most honest thing that ever came out of his mouth and he’d be completely lying if he didn’t admit he heard a bit of desperation in his voice too. Desperation for her to listen to him or for her to do it anyways, he couldn’t tell you.

“I should probably leave then.” She didn’t sound convinced, eyes still lingering on his lips.

“Probably for the best.” He found it in him to push at her hip instead of pull and released his fingers from hers. “Just don’t go getting yourself into too much trouble,” he teased, bringing out that Tethras smirk to ease the tension.

“Well you’ll never know if you don’t write regularly, will you?” She threw back at him, smiling right along with it before taking a step back.

“It’s not my fault if my courier fails to deliver or the letters get eaten by nugs.” She quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Is that the story you’re going with?” He paused to consider it.

“I’m sure I can come up with something much better.” They both chuckled, letting the air thin between them and both gazing off in other directions. She sighed in her overdramatic way and started walking back towards the stairs.

“Well, I think we’ve drawn out this goodbye long enough.” He had to laugh and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You could definitely say that,” he agreed. “I’ll see you when I see you, Hawke.” She put her hand on the stone railing, dipping her foot down on the first step.

“Sooner than later I hope.” He threw a wink her way and if he didn’t know any better, he would have sworn there was a slight flush that rose to her cheeks. She smiled and looked away, descending the stairs to make her departure.

Varric felt very alone when she disappeared from sight and cursed softly under his breath, instantly regretting holding himself back from her. He made two decisions without thinking about it. The first was he was going to be writing a long and yet very vague letter to Bianca tonight. The second was that he was going to have to somehow convince the Inquisitor to take him to Crestwood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So just for a visual here… If you haven’t seen the “gun show” armor, take a look. And drool because holy shit. http://fadetouched.tumblr.com/post/111315379924 I believe this is what happens when you put heavy armor on Varric after applying a mod that allows you to do so.


	5. Part Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is much shorter than the others but is mostly filler.

The look the Inquisitor gave Varric would make anyone believe he had grown two heads in front of her. She shook the look off her face, starting over as if she didn’t hear him correctly.

“You’re requesting to come with to Crestwood?” she tried to clarify. He resisted the urge to sigh in an irritated manner.

“I think I could be useful.” A half-truth at best.

“It’s not that I don’t think you’re useful Varric. I just think there are people better suited for this.” She tried to be gentle in her rejection. “Blackwall is a warden. There’s rumors of some kind of magic raising the dead so Solas would be a good fit.”

“So, you need a rogue to round out your party!” he offered, lifting his hands to showcase himself to which she cracked a smile.

“I was thinking about Cole. We really don’t need _three_ ranged fighters, do we?”

“And what? Is there some magical force preventing you from taking one more companion of yours along?” he scoffed.

“You know more people means more supplies and slower travel.” He hated when she used logic. “Besides, I have a contact coming in who claims to have information on Corypheus. I have a feeling he’s full of shit, but I need you here to make sure. You’re the only going to be able to tell instantly if anything he’s saying is helpful.”

“Shit.” He shook his head at stared at the fire a moment. He suspected she wouldn’t take him, but had desperately hoped otherwise. He glanced at the sealed envelope on the table next to him. “Do me a favor then?” He picked it up and turned it in his hand, both sides blank. He handed it to the Inquisitor. “Give this to Hawke?”

His desk was filled with ink smeared parchment. He’d started so many letters last night, crossed out and smudged so many sentences. The words he wanted just couldn’t make their way onto the page, probably because he wanted to say things in person, not in a letter. He’d put various names and titles on an envelope; _Hawke_ ,  _Little Bird_ ,  _My Heart_ , and then threw them all away. Eventually he settled on six little words and an unlabeled envelope with a generic Inquisition seal.

 The Inquisitor took the letter and smiled before assuring him, “Of course I will.” She watched as Varric nodded and turned back to the fire. “Is there something going on I need to know about?” He let out a scoff of a laugh.

“No,” he said sharply. “It’s personal between me and her and nothing that will affect the inquisition.” He said it bitterly, the accusation of not truly being with the inquisition still echoing in him.

“I’m here if you just need to talk too,” she said a little bit softer, trying to extend a branch of friendship. He appreciated it, but it just wasn’t the time.

“Thanks, but I’m good.” He cracked a bullshit smile. “You’ve got a whole fleet of people who come to you with their problems. I’ve got my own friends to whine to.”

“Too bad your best friend’s in Crestwood,” she challenged back at him with a smile of her own. He paused a moment, considering making a witty remark back, but instead he faltered as he started to feel heavy.

“Yeah,” he said simply. “Yeah she is.” Had he called her his best friend to anyone before? It sounded weird when someone else said it. Intimate almost. He found his gaze drawn back to the fire, not really wanting to take the conversation any further.

After a moment, the Inquisitor backed away with a brief, “I’ll make sure she gets this,” leaving Varric to his own thoughts.

~~~

Even though he had warned her he probably wouldn’t be there, Hawke couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed when the Inquisitor showed up in Crestwood without Varric. She had missed him greatly over the last couple of years, but now after having seen him and after their conversation, she dared to say she missed him even more.

After everyone conversed, she mentally kicked herself for instantly volunteering to scout The Western Approach. She wished just once she could be selfish and send Stroud so she could scurry back to Skyhold for drinks and a good time instead. That would never happen though. It wasn’t who she was. 

She thought about saying something to the Inquisitor, to have her pass some kind of message on to Varric, but decided against it. There was no need for it and it just seemed silly. There wasn’t anything she needed to say, nothing she even _wanted_ to say. They were both so bad at words, which was ironic considering Varric was a damned writer. They were better at action. And that’s what Hawke wanted. A lot of action.

The Inquisitor and her group were on their way out of the hideout when she suddenly turned back to Hawke.

“I almost forgot!” She reached into a pocket hidden in her clothes and pulled out a slightly bent envelope. “For you.” Hawke took it from her extended hand with a furrowed brow. The wink the Inquisitor shot her before following her companions out only served to further confuse Hawke.

She waited until Stroud turned away to attend to his planning before turning it over in her hand. Unlabeled, of course. She broke the seal easily with the thumb and flipped the flap open, surprising herself by not tearing it in half like she normally did by accident. She recognized the handwriting immediately, her brain instinctively reading the loops and curves and dots of dropped ink before the words themselves.

She felt excited, giddy even, before reading what he’d wrote. His letters, no matter how short or far between they were, always ended up being something that brightened her day. She clung to them and reread them when she was feeling down, only burned ones that needed to be or dull ones when her pack was getting too full.

As she read over his one-sentence letter, her stomach turned and flipped like she’d jumped off of a high ledge. There was a thrill and an excitement, her breath being taken from her suddenly as her lower belly heated up in anticipation. Her eyes darted to the cave entrance, as though the Inquisitor may still have been there for her to catch, to send a message back or maybe even to follow back to Skyhold. She was, of course, already gone and Hawke knew she couldn’t follow her back anyways. Not now at least.

She folded Varric’s letter and tucked it away for now, knowing that when she settled in camp for the night, she’d take it back out and reread it multiple times, probably even run her fingers over the dried ink as if it would bring her closer to him.

One sentence. Six little words. And yet they held so much promise in them.

_Maybe we don’t wait until Kirkwall._


	6. Part Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another little filler, but I feel like it's needed.

News was slow to arrive to Skyhold and a day slower to make it to Varric as no one thought to keep him in the immediate loop since he never had been before. The Inquisitor got held up for a day or two in Crestwood draining a lake or some other nonsense but then made her way to meet Hawke and Stroud in The Western Approach.

A part of him was disappointed they didn’t return to Skyhold before going to meet Hawke again, as if they would be carrying a message from her or maybe Hawke herself or he could this time convince the Inquisitor to take him along. All wishful thinking obviously, a product of his anxiousness, a thing he was not used to and yet had been experiencing much more often the past few months, and allowing himself to be hopeful, a thing he tried never to do anymore.

He wanted her back. Thoughts of her kept him awake at night and he wondered if that was what Templars felt like when they went through lyrium withdrawal. Poor bastards. He’d go about his daily duties as normal but his mind just kept drifting off to her. The thing that startled him though? He’d been doing that for years and never even fucking noticed it. 

_Hawke would have loved that.  
_ _Wonder where she’s at now. Haven’t heard from her in a while.  
_ _Her ass better not be in trouble again.  
_ _Damn I miss that one spell she had for hangovers.  
_ _Could that courier manage to deliver a nug to her? I just want to know what she’d do with it._

The more he thought about it, the more he realized she had always been there in the back of his mind. He’d thought about her no matter what he was doing. How had he never realized that before? He had to be fucking blind.

The only difference now, besides that he was aware of it, was that that his thoughts extended past the platonic line. He thought about her sitting in his lap again, the way her ass filled his hands. He sat at his desk in the morning picturing her naked and tangled in his sheets still sleeping soundly. He thought about how hard he’d have to tug on her arm to pull her down to kiss him. And after the sun had gone down and he retired to his room, he allowed himself to imagine her underneath him, the sounds she’d make, the way she’d taste. He’d close his eyes and lean back and conjure her face in his mind, twisted into pleasure as she rode him. He let her name roll off his lips in a strangled whisper and then afterwards, tried unsuccessfully to convince himself it wasn’t the best fantasy he’d had.  

If he had to wait until Kirkwall to see her again it might have killed him.

Shortly before the Inquisitor arrived back in Skyhold, a courier came by with a letter for him. He could tell by the purple thread tied around the rolled-up scroll of paper that it was from Hawke. He took it quickly and went back to his room to read it in private, feeling a rush of excitement and impatience as he climbed the stairs to his chambers.

He settled himself in his chair and untied the thread, not even realizing that he was smiling. The ink was dark and there were smears and smudges not uncommon in her letters when she was traveling. He’d come to expect blots of ink where she’d spilled the inkwell or even stains of alcohol. She used to try to clean it off, rub it away which only made it worse, but over the years she’d stopped and simply wrote around her mistakes. It made him smile because it made the letters feel so much more like her, more personal somehow.

He read her words as slowly as he could.

_Do you know hard it is to write a letter when it’s fucking raining all the time? Crestwood sucks. It reminds me a little of Ferelden and makes me miss Kirkwall even more. Did I ever tell you that if Carver and I hadn’t gone on the expedition that one of our ideas was to go back to Lothering? That would have been miserable._

There was a break in the page and some smudging. Varric suspected she’d paused and picked it back up later judging by the change in consistency in her ink.

_You know what else is awful about the rain? You have to set up tents for the night. You know what sucks about tents? They’re enclosed. Not only can you not see the stars, but you can’t see what’s going on around you. Literally anyone or anything could just walk up and stab-stab through the thin material and BAM. Dead Hawke. Kirkwall is sounding better and better by the minute._

Another smudge.

_I miss you. And not just because of the whole “I can’t stop thinking about touching you” thing. Which, by the way, did that sound as ridiculous in person as it does now repeating in my head? I swear I can be a lot suaver than that._

_We got into a small fight with some demons and a magister and afterwards, for just half a second, I went to look for you. After all this time, I’m still not used to not having you with me in. I don’t like it. The Inquisitor is stupid for not bringing you along._

_I’m scouting ahead trying to find this crazy guy and then I’m coming back to Skyhold. So assuming I don’t get attacked and eaten by a dragon or something else ridiculous, looks like I’ll be seeing you again soon._

_And as long as you haven’t changed your mind, I also would very much like not to wait until Kirkwall._

She didn’t sign her name. There was no sendoff at the bottom. That was pretty usual for both of them. There was never a need to throw their name at the end as if they weren’t going to realize who it was from.

He reread the letter a couple of times, chuckling at her complaints of traveling and letting himself feel warm when she talked of him. He certainly hadn’t changed his mind. He’d realized whatever relationship they would have wasn’t the same as his and Bianca’s. It wasn’t even close and he didn’t want to waste his chance with her.

And she was on her way back to him.

He sat back in his chair, a genuine smile on his face and getting a dose of happiness he hadn’t felt in a long time.


	7. Part Seven

It was midday and Varric had barely sat down by the fire when Dorian came strutting through the doors and slinking up to him. 

“Ah, there you are!” he called out, spotting the dwarf. Noticing the look of annoyance flashing across Varric’s face he added, “Now don’t look like that!” Varric leaned back in his chair, putting down the book he hadn’t even been able to open yet and looked up at the mage. “I bring good news,” Dorian promised, sitting himself down next to Varric and leaning in just slightly. The delight on his face looked like he knew he held some fascinating secret. Varric resisted rolling his eyes. He assumed it was gossip and did not expect Dorian’s next words. “Your friend is back.” Varric tried not to give a visible reaction even though he felt something in his chest jump in excitement.                          

“My friend?” He played dumb, partly to hide his reaction and partly in fear that he was getting excited for nothing. He had many “friends” after all. “Let’s be a bit more specific here, Sparkles.” Varric sunk back in his chair as though he was getting comfortable. Dorian leaned on his elbows, watching carefully.

“The Champion,” he clarified. Varric again tried to keep himself still, but this time he failed to keep the smile from his lips.

“Is she, now?” He played coy, resisting the urge to jump to his feet and go find her. “Why are you looking at me like that?” The way Dorian watched him was strange, his eyes searching for something in the way Varric reacted.

“Just trying to see if he was right.” Dorian shrugged and leaned back in his chair, giving Varric some space and freedom from his prying gaze.

“If who was right?” Varric furrowed his brow, thoroughly perplexed by the entire conversation. He began to question if Hawke was even actually in Skyhold. And honestly, he might take a swing at Dorian if she wasn’t.

“The Iron Bull.” The Qunari’s name rolled off his tongue a little too easily leading Varric to suspect whatever conversation they had, had been a bit of pillow talk and while he didn’t care much for people gossiping about his personal business at all, it really irked him that they discussed while naked in bed. He stiffened and practically prickled, tilting his head and hardening his eyes.

 “And what exactly did he say?” Dorian was left unfazed by Varric’s tone and composure. He cracked a smile and shrugged too casually.

“Only that there was more to your relationship than you let on.”

“Maybe you guys should focus on your own relationship and butt out of mine.” Dorian let out a curt laugh and held up his hands.

“Easy there,” he coaxed. “It’s not a bad thing. I never have seen you light up quite like you did when you were with her.” Varric chewed on his tongue. Was everyone going to start bringing this up now? Maker, he hoped not. “She’s outside the war room I believe. If you want to go see her.”

He toyed with the idea of staying right where he was, of being defiant and trying to prove this wasn’t as big a deal as people seemed to want to make it. It only took a few seconds for that stubbornness to melt away though. He never cared what people thought before, fuck if he was going to start now. He stood up and held his chin high, the best he could get to standing tall.

“I’m afraid to ask if you two waited until after you finished your romp to discuss me and my personal life.” He brought back a tone of humor and sarcasm, a token to disperse any tension he had put forth. Dorian didn’t reply, only picked up the book Varric had abandoned and started flipping through it.

~~~

He opened the door of the long hall to the war room and saw her towards the end of it, facing away, staff fastened to her back. He took her in for just a moment, trying to still his heart and bring his floating feet back on the floor. He smiled as he closed the door behind him.

“Should I be offended you didn’t come visit your favorite dwarf yet?” he called out to her, smiling as she turned around and saw him.

“Is Sandal here? I surely would have made him my first stop,” she teased as he approached her. She still wasn’t used to the urge that coursed through her, making her have to stop herself from launching towards him and wrapping her arms around him. His hand went to his chest in mock offense.

“Ouch,” he said with a smile. He got closer to her and didn’t really know what to do. At their last greeting, he’d been shoved against a wall and then hugged. While both held appeal now for different reasons, neither seemed entirely appropriate. “I suppose if I’m not wanted, I could just go back to my room.” He motioned over his shoulder with his thumb.

“Don’t you dare!” Hawke crossed her arms over her chest and cocked out her hip, eyes slipping into that seductive shade that made him straighten out. “At least, not without me.” A sound rose up from him, something similar to a closed-mouth moan, maybe even a slight growl. He kicked himself for denying her last time. The seduction faded from her eyes as she told him, “I would have found you first, but they dragged me here almost the second I got back.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled lightly. “They have a habit of doing that.” She uncrossed her arms, fingers starting to fidget.

“Did you get my letter?” she asked, voice a little quieter.

“Yeah, I did,” he confirmed. There was a small pause, a lull just long enough to give him the courage to reach out and put a hand over both of hers hovering at her waist, her fingers intertwined with each other. Her skin was chilled so he brought his other hand up and ran his thumbs over the backs of her hands. “I missed you too, Hawke.”

Before either could continue on, the door down the hall opened, the Inquisitor coming through, walking with purpose. They let their hands drop as casually as they could as she walked towards the war room.

“I tracked the Venatori mage back to Adamant Fortress,” Hawke told her. “They’re looking at assault options now in the war room.” The inquisitor nodded a thank you as she passed and entered to speak to her advisors. Hawke turned back to Varric who had shifted to the wall and leaned back against it. “You did well Varric,” she told him. “The Inquisitor is… just who we need.” It wasn’t like they had gotten close on their travels, but Hawke could tell what kind of woman she was and she was exactly the kind of person the Inquisition needed.

“Oh, it’s been great,” Varric sighed, his sarcasm slipping out. “Murderous wardens, Archdemon attacks, plenty of blood mages, and crazy Templars. Just like home.” His voice was more solemn than he intended it to be. It only served to remind Hawke that Varric had changed. His sarcasm and wit were dulled by a burden, by a heavy weight crushing him down, one that he carried well, but carried nonetheless. She suddenly felt very guilty.

“I know how much you hated leaving Kirkwall,” she told him, the silent _I’m sorry you had to leave because of me_ hidden beneath her words. He sensed her meaning and cracked a smile.

“This is the ass end of Thedas! You know they eat snails here?” he told her lightly, teasing her even if what he was saying _was_ true. He didn’t want her to feel bad. He’d do it all over again. For her. She returned his smile and he wanted so badly to follow that smile wherever it went. He pressed himself further into the wall, as if he had to stop himself from doing exactly that. “Still, I think I uhh…” he paused, swallowing and steeling himself to say the next part. “I need to finish this out. If it weren’t for me and Bartrand, none of this would have happened.” His eyes dropped towards his feet. “So much for changing our lives.”

“That’s what happens when you try to change things,” she told him, bringing his eyes back up to hers. “Things change. You can’t always control how.” There was more truth to what she said than she realized. Just about every damn thing in his life had changed in ways he didn’t expect after that expedition. And Hawke? Hawke was about the biggest. His eyes drifted over her.

“I’m starting to learn not all change is bad. Some of it is good.” He hadn’t meant to make it sound so suggestive, but he did somehow and he watched as Hawke took in a sharp breath. He had to admit, he liked that he had that effect on her.

“Drinks?” she suggested. He pushed himself off the wall and nodded.

“Drinks.”

~~~

It shouldn’t have surprised Varric how _not weird_ things were between them. The conversation flowed easily and the stories pulled laughs from them just like they always had. Yes, there was a distinct difference between them; a thickness in the air, the way they sat nearly pressed against each other, how her lips deliberately brushed his ear when she whispered to him, how his hand kept slipping down to her knee, but they were still _them_. It was becoming increasingly clear that nothing was going to change that.

The sun slid down behind the mountains and just as last time, the tavern started to fill. When Varric heard the voices of his friends come in, his hand went to her knee again. She leaned into him and he lowered his voice.

“I’ve got a bottle of whisky back in my room.” It was less a statement and more of a proposition. He wasn’t in the mood to share her tonight.

“It’d be a shame to waste it,” was her acceptance. They slipped off their stools and headed for the door. The only one to notice them was Bull who, when Varric looked, raised a mug and winked. Damn smug Qunari.

The walk to his room was short, both of them walking a little faster than their normal pace. They were silent as they went, bumping into each other occasionally and passing smiles hiding an anticipation. When they got to his room, Varric went to his cabinet, hoping the whisky was still there. Honestly, he couldn’t remember if he had drank it or not. He’d simply used it as a viable excuse to leave the tavern.

While he searched, Hawke set her staff against the wall and meandered over to his desk, still scattered with parchment and ink like always. Even just looking at it brought a sense of warm nostalgia to her. She had felt more at home standing at his desk than she did in her Hightown mansion most nights. For a while she thought maybe it had just been The Hanged Man in general that had become home, but no, it was definitely Varric’s desk that brought the distinct feeling of home to her.

Privacy never a thing with them, her fingers skimmed over pages, eyes briefing over the words written. Most of it wasn’t too interesting. Inquisition this. Merchants that. The occasional instructions for an informant. There was a thick stack that looked to be the start to a new chapter of his current novel. She put her thumb to the edge of the stack and did a quick flip-through. He’d gotten a lot done with it.

At the bottom of the stack though, she saw a flash of her name. Curiosity piqued, she gave a tug on the paper and pulled it out enough to see. The handwriting was familiar, but certainly not Varric’s. She tugged the letter out further to read it a little more fully.

“Aha!” Varric cried in triumph, finally finding the decanter that he had in fact _not_ drank himself. “Knew it was here somewhere.” He stood and turned to see Hawke looking down at a very specific letter. He felt himself practically deflate, his shoulders slouching down and his smile fading. He approached her slowly, coming to stand beside her.

“He contacted you?” She tried to hide how broken her voice sounded, a wave of mixed emotions flooding her.

“A week or two back,” he confirmed, setting the bottle on top of some less important papers. “I debated having one of Leliana’s men trace it back and find him. Maybe just to give him a response letter, maybe to have someone stab him in the back, I wasn’t sure.” He sighed and pinched his nose. “In the end, I thought Blondie wasn’t worth the effort or use of resources.”

Her fingers brushed over the words on the page, eyes watching them sadly. Varric knew how much Anders had hurt her. The lies, the betrayal, the love that got ripped away from her, the hole it left, the inner turmoil of letting him live and flee during the battle in Kirkwall. He knew it all. And watching the tears she fought back as she read over his words to him, he knew that if he ever saw Anders again, there’d be an arrow between his eyes before he knew Varric was even there.

He reached out, put his hand over hers, stilling it and stopping her from rereading the words again. She blinked back tears and her hand balled into a fist, the anger following the sadness. The bastard had the nerve to contact her best friend under some flimsy excuse of sharing information Varric undoubtedly already knew. Had the nerve to ask about her. To tell Varric to apologize for him. She wanted to wring his neck.

“His trail probably isn’t cold yet,” Varric told her, sensing her change in attitude. “I could still send someone with a sharp knife.” She smiled and huffed out a laugh, his offer easing her tension a little.

“No,” she responded, turning her fist in his hand and opening it to hold onto him. “He can stay hidden away for the rest of his life, suffering under all his poor decisions.” He smiled with her. He probably shouldn’t have thought her so attractive when she was vengeful. “You should send him a letter back though.” She titled her head to watch him out of the corner of her eyes. “Tell him I’m doing just fine and that you’re taking _really good_ care of me.” It was his turn to chuckle.

“Now that might be a fitting punishment,” he mused, smirking. Blondie wasn’t going to ruin their night afterall. Varric took a step back and sat himself down in his desk chair, gently pulling her back with him. “Make his head explode telling him how when we go to the tavern, you’re all over me.” Another gentle pull on her hand and a smirk rose on her lips as her shins bumped into his knees. “Paint him a picture of how you climbed into my lap in front of everyone,” he suggested, voice dipping down a little lower. “Which, you never once did to him I might add.” There was a small sense of pride in his words.

“Yes, well…” Hawke bowed her head as she lifted one of her legs to place it on the chair next to his hip. She had always wondered why his desk chairs had to be so wide, now she was grateful for it. “If I’m honest, Anders never quite did to me what you do to me, Varric.” His name rolled off her tongue in a way that sent a shiver down his spine and a warm tingle through his core.

They watched each other as she settled in his lap. He let go of her hand, bringing both of his to her hips, partly to steady her and partly just to touch her. She rested on his thighs and slipped her fingers over the edge of his coat. It was strange to think how normal it felt, as if this was always where they had meant to be. Varric’s heart wasn’t racing, but it was thudding hard against his breastbone. No nerves, only excited anticipation.

Hawke leaned down, pressing her forehead to his and just held there, soaking in the feel of his muscled legs underneath her, the rough fabric of his clothes in her hands, the smell of ink and parchment and alcohol and leather. She was wrong before. _This_ was home, right here with him. Wherever that might be.

“What made you change your mind?” she whispered, letting her eyes slip shut. His fingers tilting up to her waist tickled just slightly.

“Did a lot of thinking in a short amount of time.” He whispered back. She smiled and slipped her arms around his neck. Maker, did she feel good around him. “No sense in waiting if we both know where this is going.” He found his hands running over her; down along her thighs, up her sides, over her ass. Her fingers brushed along the back of his neck, slipping through the hair that had fallen from the band. “Fact of the matter is…” He pulled his forehead away from hers just enough to look up at her. Her eyes fluttered open and he brought up a hand to brush away her hair from her face, dragging his knuckles along her cheek. “You’re not Bianca.”

Another simple sentence that held more meaning than the words implied. Hawke wasn’t a married woman who just fucked him when she saw him. She wasn’t a broken promise. She wasn’t heartache waiting to happen. She was his and only his. She was everything.

“And you’re not Anders.” The same sentiment echoed in her own breathless words.

She watched his eyes for only a moment, a part of her still fearing he was going to push her away. When all he did was encourage her by smiling lightly and tugging gently on her hips, she leaned down and finally pressed her lips to his.

The kiss was soft and slow, a gentle test of the waters at best. Their lips barely moved, bodies frozen with the first wave of warmth igniting inside themselves. Varric took a sharp breath in, his fingers curling around to the small of her back. Hawke reacted to his pull, pressing closer against him, tilting her head to deepen the kiss just slightly.

They pulled away slowly, both feeling dizzy and keeping their eyes shut, foreheads pressed together. Varric realized his breathing was heavy and deep. If this was what she did to him with a single kiss, he’d be dead by morning.

“Remind me why we haven’t done this before?” Hawke’s voice turned rough and she pressed her hips into his lap, causing him to let out the slightest little growl and tighten his fingers over the curve of her ass.

“I don’t know,” he replied, his own voice deeper than he thought it would be. “Guess we just have to make up for lost time.”

Hawke hummed in agreeance before twisting her fingers in his loose hair and tugging, tilting his head upwards and bringing his lips roughly to hers. She didn’t pull his hair hard enough to cause pain, but just enough to send tingles down his spine and cause him to involuntarily moan into her mouth. He didn’t think he’d like that so much, his cock hardening quickly underneath her. She rolled her hips and he squeezed her ass, slipping his hands around to fully cup her.

“Bed?” he whispered against her kiss.

“Bed,” she agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I really didn't mean to end it here... I originally intended to continue on TO the bed in this chapter but I feel like this was a good chunk and the next really deserves it's own part.


	8. Part Eight

Sunlight filtered in through the windows in the early morning, splaying perfectly across Hawke’s skin when Varric crept back into his room, tray of food in his hands. She was naked and on her stomach, face only half on a pillow, blankets tangled around her waist, and one arm strewn across the bed to reach the spot Varric had vacated not too long ago.

It had been one hell of a night, the kind of night that he would not be telling stories of. Tales of how they collapsed in a fit of laughter when her legs got in the way or of how she halted his chuckles by wrapping her mouth around him would not be heard by anybody. The way he ran his fingers over every scar of hers, both ones he knew of and ones he hadn’t been there for, before kissing them gently, would be kept between them. The wild look in her eye as she pinned him down and the strangled moans when he was between her legs were only for him just as much as his barely whispered _I love you_ into her neck was only for her.

He had no doubt that he’d spin stories of the two of them, some completely made up and some laced with half-truths from future endeavors he expected they’d have, but that first night together was for them and them alone. Count it as the second story in his life that he’d never tell.

Varric set the tray down on his desk and ventured back to his bed. Sitting down on the edge, he reached over and brushed some of her hair out of her face. She snored ungracefully and it brought a soft smile to his face. This was what he wanted, what he needed. In all of the shit and hell in the world, he needed more of this, more of her.

He thought again about running off with her, truly thought about it for a few minutes. They could pack up and go, leave everything behind and hideout in Kirkwall until either the world ended or it all blew over. Give the Inquisition some half-assed excuse on why it was detrimental that they left. Hawke was right that the Inquisitor didn’t really _need_ him. They could do it. He _wanted_ to do it.

Call it a sense of morality, call it courage, call it self-loathing and punishment, call it whatever the hell you wanted but he knew he wouldn’t do it. Not unless she asked him to and it wasn’t in her to do that. The woman may have been sarcastic and a little violent, but she was possibly the least selfish person he knew. She’d give everything, had given everything, for people who would give her nothing back. She wouldn’t walk away from this.

He sat there watching her sleep and wondered if that’s why he was so determined on fixing this shit. Was it for her? To be more like her? To keep her safe and by his side? So that maybe for once, she didn’t have to be the one giving her all? Shit, if he was being honest, he could probably trace all of his actions and decisions back to a reason revolving around her.

He chuckled to himself and her eyes fluttered open before scrunching and frowning at him.

“What’s so funny?” Her voice cracked, still coated in sleep.

“Just wondering to myself how I didn’t see last night coming.” He ran his hand through her hair and kept smiling.

“Well, to be fair,” she said, rolling back onto her side, completely unabashed by her nakedness. “It’s not like we’ve been pining for each other this whole time.” He didn’t stop himself from looking over her chest. She had a small, round bruise just above her collarbone from where he’d sucked a little harder than he meant to. Her fault, really. She did that little twisting motion with her hand and he couldn’t be held responsible for anything he did after that.

“No?” he teased and sighed dramatically. “And here I was believing you stayed awake in your Hightown mansion longing for me every night.” She laughed and flopped onto her back, throwing one arm up over her head to cart her hair back. She watched the ceiling for a moment, still letting her body and mind wake up. Varric watched her carefully and her silence made him wonder. “You never thought about it, did you?” Her eyes darted back to his in surprise.

“When? In Kirkwall?” She scrunched her face again and thought about it. “Well I didn’t think about it, but I didn’t _not_ think about it?” Varric couldn’t help but laugh and reach out to pat her hand.

“Oh Hawke, you are just a world of clarity, aren’t you?” She laughed with him and smacked at his hand playfully.

“Well it’s not like no one brought it up!” she defended. “When Isabella catches you sneaking out of a man’s quarters at dawn with messy hair, questions and provocations tend to follow.” She extended her hand and pulled on his shirt, signaling him to lay beside her which he happily obliged. “I laughed it off at the time. I didn’t really start thinking about the possibility of us until after I left. It seemed so…”

“Absurd?” he filled in.

“Yes. You were my friend. I had Anders and you had Bianca.” She took his hand in hers, but kept watching the ceiling, memories drifting through her mind. “And yet, when I think back…”

“You wonder how you didn’t see it coming,” he supplied again causing her to smile before bursting out laughing.

“We did everything together!” she said through spits of laughter. “I slept naked in your bed once! How did we not see this coming?” He chuckled, her amusement of the situation pure and infectious.

“You’ll remember I was a gentleman and did not sleep in the bed that night,” he reminded teasingly.

“Maybe you should have,” she mused, falling quiet and turning her head to look at him softly. “Could have saved us years of time.” They both knew it wasn’t true, but it was nice to imagine. Neither of them were in a position to be with the other in Kirkwall. There was too much going on, too much they were wrapped up in. It had to happen here, after time apart, after missing each other and sorting their shit out.

They shuffled in the bed, rolling to face each other as they fell silent and thoughtful. Varric had no idea how he was going to let her go. He knew that eventually, they’d have to go their separate ways at least for a little while longer. Letting her leave him in Kirkwall was hard enough, but now? It was different. Now he wanted to wrap his arms around her and keep her there with him. He wanted to drink with her and see if he could get a blush on her cheeks. He wanted her to sit on his lap in The Hanged Man and watch the reactions of their friends. He wanted to fight by her side again and to threaten thugs in the Hightown alleys, to go to the fucking Wounded Coast wandering around aimlessly, killing a couple stray Qunari and joking about the salty air. He wanted to take her home.

He brushed his hand over her face, cradling her cheek in his hand. He whispered her name and pulled her to him for a kiss. He only hoped it conveyed everything he was feeling.

Hawke clung to him, arm wrapping around his waist, palm flat on his back pulling him close, leg slipping around his calf, entangling him in her blankets. For the first time in a long time, she felt at peace and truly happy. Sure, the world was still ending and things still sucked but she had Varric, she had one thing that she wanted and that was enough for her.

She pulled away from him slowly, foreheads resting on each other and eyes closed. Her stomach grumbled a little and she smiled lightly.

“Did I smell food?” she questioned. Varric let go of her and barked out a laugh, rolling away. 

“C’mon,” He patted her leg through the blanket and drug himself out of the bed. “Let’s get you some food before you start trying to eat the dwarf.”

~~~

It was around midday when Varric found Hawke in the courtyard of Skyhold. They’d pried themselves away from each other long enough for them to eat, bathe, and take care of some business of both of their ends. She must have finished before he did as she looked quite content and a little bored, leaning against a wall and watching the people around her. He slid himself beside her on the wall and looked with her for a moment.

“Everyone is so busy,” Hawke commented. He’d never really noticed but she was right. Very few people were ever just standing around and resting. Everyone had a job they were doing. “Almost makes me feel guilty for staying in bed most of the morning.”

“Almost?” he hummed. She turned her head to look down at him and wink with a wide smile. The carelessness and freedom, the happiness in her eyes made his stomach flip. He resisted the urge to reach out for her hand or to slip his around to cup her ass. Instead, he bumped her with his shoulder and they chuckled to themselves.

“There you two are!” They heard the Inquisitor call. “Are you both ready?” Varric scrunched his face in confusion. Did he miss something? Hawke must have made a similar face because the Inquisitor stopped walking and looked at them curiously. “No one’s talked to you, have they?”

“No, they haven’t,” Hawke said. “Should I be offended? After all, I did get the impression I was a big deal around here. Shouldn’t more people be talking to me?”

“I held a meeting before you got here,” Varric jumped in. “Told everyone to treat you like a regular person. You know; don’t look you in the eye, no groveling, don’t breathe too close to you. Just the usual.” They smiled with each other as the Inquisitor looked on awkwardly, not included in their little jest.

“Right,” she interrupted, still a little baffled by their exchange. “We’re leaving in an hour for Adamant Fortress. Can you both be ready?”

“Wait,” Varric pushed off the wall and motioned to himself. “You want me to go with?” The Inquisitor smiled just slightly, not missing the way Hawke’s eyes widened with excitement.

“I hear you two make a powerful team and we could definitely use Bianca for this one,” she admitted. “Can you be ready?”

“Of course we can,” Hawke confirmed. The women nodded at each other before the Inquisitor turned and continued on her way. Varric stepped up in front of Hawke and faced her. 

“Well what do you say, Serah Hawke?” He cracked a smile. “Are you ready for another adventure?” He held his hand out for her and she wasted no time in slapping her palm into his and giving his hand a squeeze.

“With you? Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I realize most of you were probably expecting some full on smut, but I just wasn't feeling it and I found myself avoiding writing this part because I felt like full smut was required when really, it wasn't. I apologize if you are disappointed but I feel organically, it didn't need to be there.


	9. Part Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part is a little choppy, I admit. Trying to narrate through the entire fade would have taken forever and quite frankly, I just didn’t want to. Hopefully it still keeps some kind of rhythm though.

The Fade. Why did it have to be the Fade? He was a dwarf. He didn’t belong in the fucking Fade. The last time he was there, he fell victim to a damn desire demon. Not exactly his finest moment. And not one he wanted to have a chance to repeat either.

After getting themselves all upright on the same piece of solid ground, Hawke walked up next to him, her boots sloshing in the.. mud? He hoped it was mud. He expected they’d all end up with it all over them soon enough. There was no way they were getting out of there without a fight.

“This doesn’t feel right,” she commented quietly, her eyes examining their surroundings.

“Tell me about it,” Varric whispered back, doing his own inspecting. He hoped at least one of them would be able to make heads and tails of the place. Maker knows it all looked the same to him. 

~~~

Fighting spirits and demons wasn’t so bad. Same shit, different setting. It felt good to fight beside Hawke once more. They fell back into their pattern so easily, even there. They kept their distance from the frontrunner fighters, usually perched on a bit of higher ground if they could. They didn’t stand too close together, but were always within eyesight. It wouldn’t take but a few seconds for them to reach each other if something went wrong.

Despite the dire atmosphere, he couldn’t help but flash a grin her way during battle. The little sparkle in her eyes was enough to give him the boldness to shout out to her, “How many have you got, Hawke?” coaxing a smile from her and creating an echo of nostalgia that rippled between them.

She twirled her staff the same way he remembered and he caught himself staring for just a moment thinking, _Maker, I love that woman._

The fights were fairly easy and unexciting, which he wasn’t exactly complaining about. He and Hawke walked beside each other in the slop while the Inquisitor searched every nook and cranny she found. Varric had always found the habit endearing because it reminded him of Hawke in the early days.

“Remember when you used to do that?” he nudged her. “You searched through every sack and pile of filth you could find.” She cracked a smile at him.

“I found some good stuff!” she defended. “And how else was I supposed to come up with _fifty_ sovereigns?”  She bumped him with her hip as they chuckled to themselves. He had an urge to slip his arm around her waist as they walked, but squelching around in the Fade wasn’t exactly the best place to do that so he resisted. 

~~~~

Running into the Divine, or whatever that thing actually was, didn’t do anything to ease tensions. If anything, it made things worse. Hawke had a distrust of the Wardens to start with, but seeing them in the vision had kicked it up and Varric could practically see her skin prickle. She’d narrowed her eyes at Stroud and hadn’t moved until Varric touched her elbow.

“Sounds like it preys on fear,” he said, trying to change the topic. “Stealing people’s memories. That’s low. Even for a demon. Memories make us what we are. A monster that takes them away? I don’t want to think about that.” The idea didn’t appeal to him at all. He was a storyteller. People, memories, and characters all intertwined. Remove one and his entire life came crashing down.

He couldn’t help but think about what would happen if his own memories would be taken. What would the demon take? What pieces would it remove from his mind? What would hurt the most? He shuddered and tried to push past the thoughts that inevitably led to the woman standing beside him.

The deep, echoing voice of the fear demon wouldn’t let the thoughts escape him for long. It came from everywhere, from the sky and the ground, from behind him and in front of him. It was a little more than unnerving and impossible to ignore.

“Once again Hawke is in danger because of you, Varric.” He could feel Hawke looking at him, watching him softly and carefully, waiting for his reaction. “You found the red lyrium. You brought Hawke here.”

“Just keep talking, Smiley,’ he muttered. Joke was on the demon. It couldn’t say anything that Varric hadn’t already told himself at night. His jaw might have clenched and his fingers might have curled a little tighter around Bianca, but he’d be damned if he let that thing get any further into his head.

No one said anything, which he was grateful for. The thing liked to pick them apart one by one and to everyone’s credit, none of them engaged each other on what was said. Everyone simply kept pushing forward, fighting and resisting.

They were taking a short break after another battle. Varric was wiping off the muck from his coat when the voice started again.

“Did you think you mattered, Hawke?” He tensed up. “Did you think _anything_ you ever did mattered?” Was that what she feared? He took a chance to look at her and the stone look masking her face could have broken him. “You couldn’t even save your city. How could you expect to strike down a God?” Her eyes went to the ground and he found himself reaching for her hand. She shifted her eyes to him and he squeezed his fingers around her palm. “Varric is going to die, just like your family and everyone you ever cared about.” She returned his grip around his hand, a forced smile widening her mouth. 

“Well that’s going to grow tiresome quickly,” she quipped. He had to give her credit; her voice didn’t waver at all. When they got out of there, he was going to have one hell of a talk with her. He refused to have her believe she didn’t matter. No fucking way he was letting that go. 

~~~

She saw spiders. He wished that was all he saw. When it was a corpse of Anders’ torso clawing its way towards him, he could handle it. Putting a bolt through Blondie’s head wasn’t an uncommon thought to him. But it got progressively worse with each one that attacked. Carver. Bartrand. Fenris. Orana. Bianca. Isabela. Merrill. All of them dead and shambling towards him, fingers reaching for his neck, low moans of hate and blame growing from their torn open throats.

His heart was hammering in his chest, his ribcage feeling constricting all of a sudden. He kept telling himself they weren’t real, repeating it in his head and cursing the demon. Load. Aim. Fire. Load. Aim. Fire. Load. Aim.

Shit.

He was struck from behind and when he whirled around, he hesitated. Her eyes just looked so… empty. Her mouth hung open, tongue lolling in her mouth and hanging on by a thread. Yet somehow, he heard dark words come out. _Your fault._

His hesitation was only for a moment, but the dead body of Hawke was too close already. Her grey, decomposed hand clawed at his arm and he let out a shout of pain. Her body disintegrated in a flash of purple light, the hand releasing him and leaving him with nothing but long scratches down his bicep.

“Are you okay?” The real Hawke called out to him, her staff still glowing from her cast. 

“Yeah!” he lied. “Thanks for the backup!” 

Varric shook himself out of his head and they cleared out the rest of the area quickly. Hawke was next to him before he even realized it, taking his arm in her hands and examining it. He had to admit, it was nice to feel her skin on his. She was warm and very much alive.

They didn’t have anything clean and dry to wipe the blood away with, but Hawke dug her undershirt out from underneath her armor and tore a thick strip of it off the bottom. He didn’t argue as she tied it around his arm.

“Clean that when we get back,” she instructed him.

“I thought I’d let it fester,” he jested. “What’s that you always said? Scars are sexy?” He shot her a wink and she rolled her eyes. “Come on.” He patted her hip and ushered her forward. “Let’s make sure we actually get out of here before we worry about marring my perfect skin.”

~~~

Varric reached out his hand to Hawke, helping her off the ground. She made squishy noises that caused both of them to scrunch their noses. She wiped her hands over her backside when she was on her feet again, attempting to clear some of the gunk off.

“Maybe we’ll find you a river to clean off in on the way back,” he told her. Running a hand over his coat, he added, “Maybe I’ll join you.” She let out a huff of a laugh as the team grouped around them.

“Almost there,” she said hopefully, eyes turning to the rift. They smiled at each other through the blood and muck on their faces for only a brief moment before her hand was on his shoulder, pushing him forward. “Let’s go,” she said from behind him.

He followed the other two companions heavily, his dwarf legs giving him a hard time running up the sticky mess. He was panting by the time he got to the top and ran straight through the rift. He was smiling when he saw they had in fact arrived back at Adamant and turned to give an out-of-breath, smartass remark to Hawke only to find no one there. His smile died.

She had been right behind him. Hadn’t she?


	10. Part Ten

Varric was still shaking. They had made camp in Adamant for the night and even though the sun had sunk far down, it certainly hadn’t cooled off any. The dry air was making his throat itch and the heat felt like a thick blanket over his skin. But he was still shaking.

His fingers trembled when he removed his gloves, stomach constantly twisting in knots. His eyes were tired. He refused to admit they were red from tears, but they were. If he was honest, the crying, or more-so the pressure of trying not to cry, was probably the culprit of the pain in his throat, not the dry air.

He’d pitched up a tent in a dim corner of the fortress and while he claimed it was because the wind was going to kick up, everyone knew he’d pitched it for privacy. No one mentioned it. He’d clambered inside as soon as it was steady and tried to make himself comfortable, tried to calm himself down.

He pivoted between sadness and anger so quickly it could have given him whiplash. It just so happened he was in a bout of anger when Hawke ducked her head in, carrying a bag of food.

“It’s mostly just berries,” she said, oblivious to way he was glaring at her. “Wasn’t really prepared for an overnight stay.” She sat down next to him, but he bit his tongue and kept quiet which was what alerted her. “Varric?”

“You wanted to stay,” he gritted. “You were going to stay and die there if you had your way about it.”

“Someone had to,” she said softly.

“ _Not you_ ,” he snapped, turning his neck to watch her. She was looking down at her hands and her shoulders just looked so heavy. His anger started melting away again. “It doesn’t always have to be you.” His voice was softer and cracked when he spoke. He sighed and looked away, but reached out and placed his hand over hers. She gripped it instantly and fiercely. “It doesn’t always have to be you,” he repeated, pushing back more tears.

They were quiet for a few minutes, not speaking or looking at each other, only gripping the other’s hand, afraid to let go. No more words were needed. They understood each other without them.

It had only been a minute, maybe two, that Varric had stood at Adamant, staring blindly into the rift, but it had been the longest and most painful time in his life. There was sporadic fighting around him, but he paid it no attention. The world could have been dying around him and he didn’t care. His world was through that rift and he _needed_ her to come back through.

He’d made the decision to walk back through the rift, not caring if it killed him. The only thing stopping him was a paralyzing fear of what he’d find on the other side of it. He remembered the image of her that the demon had shown him; the dead and decaying Hawke shambling after him. Finding her body would kill him just as surely as a knife to the heart would. But he had to know.

He’d steeled up his courage and made the first step towards the rift when it flashed and Hawke came running through it, bloody and practically panting. She fell to her knees besides the Inquisitor and Varric felt the pressure lift from his chest, emotions suddenly flooding his once paralyzed body.

He ran up to her and immediately took her face in his hands. On her knees, she was only a smidge taller than he was, but with her head hanging down, he still had to lift her to him and it was a foreign feeling. The looked at each other just long enough to be sure they were real. He didn’t care about the blood and the gunk covering her face or that there were people around. He kissed her anyways.

It wasn’t hot or passionate, but it was far from chaste. He held onto her and kissed her like she was the only thing keeping him alive, like he _needed_ her. After her initial surprise, she gave it right back. Her hands gripped his hips, the points of her armored gloves threatening to pierce into his skin. It didn’t bother him. He wasn’t letting her go.

One minute of uncertainty was torture. One moment even was too much. Sitting in the tent that night, holding her hand, he found himself chuckling in a dark, ironic way. He brought his hand to his forehead, holding his head as he shook it.

“No wonder you shoved me into a wall after Haven,” he mused. He’d left her in the dark for two weeks. He couldn’t even imagine what they would have felt like.

“Just to be clear,” her voice cracked ever so slightly when she tried to keep her tone light. “I’m very glad you chose the opposite reaction I did.”

“Come here.” He turned his body and threw his hand to the back of her neck, dragging her into an awkward hug as they sat there which she eagerly returned. “Do you really have to go to Weisshaupt?” he whispered into her hair.

“Do you really have to stay with the Inquisition?” she countered with a smile. He shrugged, moving both of their bodies with the gesture.

“Touché.” They pulled back slowly and he brushed the hair from her face, pausing for a moment to cradle her jaw before letting her go. “I swear, when this is all over, we’re going back to Kirkwall and we’re never leaving again.”

“I’ll drink to that,” she smiled. “If we had anything to drink, that is.” He chuckled at her.

“I’m sure I can think of something to replace a toast.” He laid himself down on his bedroll, arms behind his head, one leg bent at the knee, smirk planted firmly on his face. She held no subtlety as she looked him up and down.

“Serah Tethras,” she said coyly. “Are you attempting to seduce me?” 

“Would that offend your delicate, ladylike manner?” he teased. She pursed her lips as though contemplating it while at the same time, throwing one of her legs across his hips and straddling him. His hands went to her thighs, a new instinct of his that he had no desire to suppress.

“It does. The Lady Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall, deserves to be courted properly.” He pushed his propped up knee against her ass, pushing her forward. She took the hint and bent at the waist, leaning over him and putting her hands next to his head. He traced his hands up her body to her sides. “I expect flowers and delicate chocolates from fine, expensive shops.” He hummed at her, not oblivious to the way she weighted her hips down just so. “Also, the shiniest jewels and stones from the darkest parts of Orzammar.”

“Well I don’t know about all of that,” he teased. “I’ll offer to let you drink on my tab though.” She smiled widely and brought her nose to his.

“Sold.”

~~~

It was still early in the morning when everyone was ready to part ways. Varric had found himself packing his things slowly and trying to find any little reason to take more time. It didn’t help much and the time to say goodbye still came upon him too quickly.

He stood with Hawke after she said her brief farewells to the group, standing off to the side and looking out towards the direction she was headed. They held hands and tried to make it feel distinctively different than it had when she left Kirkwall. And it was. They weren’t running from something this time. They were running _to_ something. Trying with everything they had to fix the damn world so they could settle down and get their own peace. It was a more encouraging feeling, but the fear and doubt still lingered heavily.

“Do me a favor?” she asked, still looking out to the landscape. “Don’t get yourself killed.” He couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of him.

“Alright Hawke, which of us is more likely to run headfirst into a deathtrap?” When he looked up at her, she had a smile on her face too. “I’m not the one who just tried to stay in the fade to fight a giant, squishy demon.”

“Well, continue to not do those things, will you?” She squeezed his hand. “Just sit at your desk and write your stories, write me letters, and cause small amounts of havoc around Skyhold.”

“I’ll do that only if you don’t torment the Wardens.” She scoffed at his request. They both knew neither situation would happen, but it was nice to pretend. She turned to look at him finally and he could see she was putting on her mask, the façade of a sarcastic face that prevented her from crying.

He tugged on her hand, turning her to face him so he could wrap his arms around her waist and hug her. She didn’t resist to throw her own arms over his shoulders and hold on tight. They knew they stayed in the embrace longer than they probably should. Each second they held on, it got harder to let go. But damn did it feel good.

Eventually she sighed and pulled away just enough in order to angle her head down towards him. He lifted on his tip toes to meet her, kissing her with everything he had. The kiss didn’t last nearly as long as the hug did, the admittedly awkward angle making them pull apart.

“I’ll see you in Kirkwall?” she asked, her fingers skimming his neck underneath his hair, sending small shivers down his back. 

“In Kirkwall,” he agreed. She nodded and sighed again, straightening her back and pulling away from him. She brushed briefly at her eyes, making sure they were clear.

They didn’t say goodbye as she reluctantly walked away from him. They gave each other sad, but hopeful smiles and small waves. Varric stood and watched until she vanished from his sight behind a hill before he made his way back to camp.

One thing was for certain. No one and nothing, but even Corypheus, would stop him from making his way back to Kirkwall and back to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so this story wraps up... But I'm not done with these two quite yet. Stay tuned.


End file.
